The Memorial
by Vynxe
Summary: He had possessed her; he haunted her dreams and thoughts. She was chosen to bring his terror to an end, but could she when her heart ached for him just as strong as her mind ached for justice? Harkon/Dragonborn (M for mature content)


**There are a few foreign languages added (just one) to the chapter and because I find it very confusing when I stumble upon them and have to search for their meaning in the end of the chapter I decided to just add the translation in the end of the sentence.**

 **Excuse any grammar errors or/and misspells, I did the best I could to correct those I noticed, but there is bound to be more that slipped from my sight.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **~O~O~O~O~O~**

"Are you going to save him?"

Not a sign of acknowledgment was made for the simple question. Although she couldn't say she was surprised by the reaction or the lack of it in this situation.

Serana had grown accustomed to that nerve-wracking trait the woman crouching beside her possessed along with all the other oddities carving her character. Said woman, Morrigan – a name given to her by her father, had stringed many weird habits to her cold blooded nature. Like not answering questions until she was sure a certain time had passed.

Sometimes, at the midst of nights, when every other Dawnguard was asleep and Serana was left completely alone to sit at the two large dining tables with her back to the fireplace, she surrendered to the thoughts circling around her newly proclaimed best friend. A cold heart closed to all but a few, a stoned expression with battle anger being one of the few emotion to ever illuminate it, if she wasn't playing an act that is, a skillful hand that had caused the deaths of countless people, both innocent and sinful, a lurking step that not even a Khajiit could pick up and a tongue so sharp and bitter that it could cut through Ulfric Stormcloak's shout like a hot knife through butter.

People thought it was a mask, a way for Morrigan to keep her hand steady and her senses alert for any danger that was to come. Serana had heard men and women alike whisper in each other's ears that it was the woman's chosen style in protecting them, that she was cold only on the outside and soft and caring on the inside.

They were insolent to think of her as such. People were foolish enough to believe in much without receiving any proof, Morrigan being a perfect example. What the society failed to understand was that she didn't do it because she wanted to protect anyone or save the world, she wasn't worried about children ending up a giant's meal or a hunter being hunted by spriggans, no, she merely did it for herself, more specifically for the rewards she would get for her effort. Gold, simple as that, simple for both of them, yet there were those rare times when Serana allowed herself to become just as naïve as the rest who adored her partner. She gave herself the brief time to think that someday Morrigan would express those blunt and dry words she used to reassure the vampire how much she was worth, that she would show how much she cared and not just plain say it, even for the briefest moment.

Serana had shared so much with the closed up woman about issues dating back to when she was still a child and was yet to be sacrificed to Molag Bal, she had told her so many memories, dark memories which no one, not even her father's court knew. But when she thought about it Morrigan had never felt urged to speak of neither her life, her past nor the rough path she had been forced to walk. The only information that leaked past her mouth was that of her parents' origins. Her father had been a Daedra while her mother – a common Imperial woman.

That night, when she had tried to will away her melancholic memories with mead and Serana had been named to carry her to bed, had been the only time Morrigan had ever spoken about anything concerning her life. She hadn't remembered her shared words the next morning and the vampire had made no attempt to pick up the conversation again. A Daedra parent was a very interesting topic, but Serana knew better than to dig around in other people's business so she'd left it at that.

That little bit of information didn't help her curiosity whenever they were facing an exiled Daedra, though.

Morrigan would tell her to step back; she would do as ordered and watch the fight heat the air around them until the final blow was struck. And as if the woman felt pity at that moment, a pang of regret and even apology could be seen lurking deep within her burning green eyes if one looked close enough. The vampire supposed that Daedra reminded her of the past, of memories with her father, good memories by the hesitation she displayed before digging her dragger in the opponent's chest.

Moments in which Morrigan let herself scrape the surface of her contained emotions were moments to be cherished; they reminded Serana that the said woman was still human.

The vampire's glowing eyes fell when she heard the click of an enchanted crossbow being loaded somewhere under her ear.

The ready to fire the weapon was left bowing to the ground as Morrigan continued to watch the unfair battle rage with a calculative look.

"He won't survive." she spoke in a calm tone that would have brought goose bumps to anyone lucky enough to actually hear her "He's wounded, lacking sleep, dehydrated and his sword in dull. His armor has no fire resisting enchantments." a pitiful smile cracked her sickly pale face "He's as good as dead."

It was a common trait of hers to tell a person's both mental and physical state, even from the long distance they had drawn from the dragon. Serana was never bothered by it unlike the majority of people, she found it amusing actually, and helpful when the memories of her family came back to taunt her, but she pretended to be unbothered.

It was said amongst humans that because the Divines had taken away her sight and left her blind to what all else saw, Morrigan was given another gift. She could see the souls of the living and could tell what anyone was feeling without any hints being given. Some said she could even talk to the dead because of her eyes. The basic idea was true. She _could_ see, just as good as any other human or vampire. She saw that the trees were green and the sky blue, the fire yellow and the soil brown and the only supplement that elevated her sight from those of mortals was that she could detect the life of all living creatures, both active like humans and inactive like plants. The woman could see just that apart from the usual, a blur of faint colors she had learned how to separate and recognize through the years, which made the rest of the gossips nothing but made up tales to keep the old drunks and wee babes wondering before going to bed. There was nothing _special_ about her eyes except for their strange and slightly disturbing looks, but that was something to blame the College of Winterhold for. An experiment gone wrong had colored her white sclera black, something the woman had hidden for long before feeling comfortable enough to expose to the public.

"Well?" Serana urged, the hearable irritation not suiting her even voice, and maneuvered from crouching to sitting before crossing her arms "Are you going to save him?"

A bare thumb was pressed against faintly tinted lips.

"No." Morrigan didn't even blink; concerned that she'd miss a glimpse of the battle "Not yet."

"You know, sometimes I wonder why you refused my father's gift when you brought me back to the castle."

For the first time since they had hidden to enjoy the fiery fiasco Morrigan turned around, completely tearing her eyes off the one thing she had kept under watch at all costs.

The vampire felt ready to bite back her tongue when the pressuring gaze landed on her shoulders.

"Why wonder?" now pressing her back against the boulder and facing Serana with her crossbow laid in her lap Morrigan cupped the side of her neck, soothing her newly occurred worry that she had been bitten by a vampire somewhere along the way of tracking down their targeted dragon.

"Well,…" the vampire merely shrugged and glanced at the grass under her feet, just thankful that she wasn't going to get lectured for dwelling in the past again "It would have been so much – well, you. It would have suited you."

"And what if I had, hm? What happens after that?" the woman's lower lip was halfway sucked in her mouth, an indicator that she was going to sink her teeth in it any moment to stop her tongue from continuing to hiss out venom "I become your daddy's bitch like the rest of his lousy court and we live happily ever after?" at that her head bowed and her eyes grew distant "Reality doesn't work that way, dear friend. It can't all be perfect, even under your father's wing."

The last part truly sounded like it had been told by a snake, low and sharp and slipping past a split tongue.

"So you would have accepted it?"

The thought of what might have happened if Morrigan had become a vampire had never surfaced in Serana's head, but now that she imagined it the thought scared her. If the woman was on Harkon's side she doubted there would still be a sun to sizzle her skin every time they left the fort on busyness matters at daytime. The Dawnguard would surely be dead and the rest of humanity – hunted down like cattle. The alternate end really did spring horror in her heart and pulled her even more towards her mother's theory on their survival. Vampires were created to hide in the shadows and strike fear in their enemies, not charge in a bloody battle with the original inhabitants of Tamriel.

"…Maybe…" the woman suddenly cleared her throat, craned her head back to look at the man who still struggled to hold his position against the dragon and sighed. Standing up with crossbow in hand she aimed with one eye squinted shut for better precision.

"He wouldn't have treated you like the rest. I hope you realize that."

Morrigan felt a hand press against her shoulder, light and careful, comforting her unnecessarily.

"You would have been his creation; he would have treated you with respect. You would have been like his daughter."

For a moment the woman lost the dragon from sight, being unwillingly pulled deep in her thoughts, and sighed.

"Would have."

She knew the second she had refused that she'd made the right choice, but the blurry image of what might have been on the other side nibbled at her mind sometimes. She knew better than Serana's words. She would have been made a slave, forced to do what the madman pleased and devour humans, something she had vowed not to do and had been tested many times – from Lycantophy to Namira's ring. The whole idea seemed repulsive to her and _unholy_. But she was no believer. She didn't prey to gods nor visit the shrines of the Divines. She was a realist and to all who knew her well enough had learned of that detail by now.

She had aimed perfectly, had marked the right spot with her piercing, cold eye, but when the steel bolt was sent flying she couldn't shake the feeling that instead of shooting her hand had slipped.

This is what too much thinking did to you.

Weakened nearly to death by the poisoned bolt, the dragon made two shaky circles, its wings barely flapping, seemingly broken, before crashing against the dried up soil that made the plains of Whiterun Hold.

The man's surprise was clear as day when he was forced to jump to the side and avoid the massive lizard that was being dragged over the ground by its own body weight. However, he didn't seem to want to search for his hero before slaying the dragon and proclaiming himself dragon hunter. And Morrigan would have none of that. It was she who took out the healthy dragon while it was in the sky and it would be her who would steal away its last breath.

Many had tried to steal her kills before and had failed so why should she stain her reputation and her pride for someone she had decided to spare? No, this beast was hers.

A vague sound was extorted from within Serana's throat and the woman could feel the meek self-ironic smile that came to a stop on her face a moment later.

A laugh, a small mocking giggle had accidentally escaped the vampire, one which told just how childish Morrigan's actions were. She was like a kid clutching to her toy and completely unwilling to share it. That's exactly how she felt about the dragon; it was hers, her target, her hunt and she wasn't about to give it up to a mere stranger. She was just too bratty to do that.

It didn't matter which part of its scaly body she hit, but that she _hit_ it. The poison covering the bolt would do the rest.

A throaty grunt lingered past the dragon's widely agape mouth before the strong neck holding its pointy head jolted like it was being fed with electricity, the muscles twitching vigorously, one by one in a thick chain before relaxing. The dragon's head fell with a deaf boom and its nostrils stilled. Its eyes were open, still so wide and horrific, despite the beast being dead.

Morrigan would have hesitated to near it if it had been her first slain dragon. But her standing back in the shadows wasn't based on her fearing the dead creature, she just wanted to have a fair distance drawn from the man examining the dragon if he were to try and approach her. She wanted to keep a low profile, something uncommon for her, though when the dragon's flesh began to burn away and dissolve into nothing and its soul took a dash before reaching her chest and enveloping her in light she could say that her idea had failed. She could also declare herself an idiot for forgetting that she absorbed dragon souls. It wasn't that surprising, though, because she barely knew any shouts and never used them, as well as continued to ignore the calls of the Greybeards.

Alduin felt too much of a burden, the whole _"You must save the world"_ nonsense was too heavy for her shoulders to bear so she did one of the most cowardly things she had ever done. She hid. She still hunted dragons, learned shouts whenever she stumbled upon them and did pass by Ivarstead when going to Riften, but kept far away from the 7000 steps, knowing that if she claimed the first step there was no turning back.

When the soul stretched the line between her and the dragon Morrigan glanced at the hooded man and met his partly covered stare, which was as cold as snow and as sharp as ice, his stubble was colored red from his blood, his neck was dripping with sweat, his armor was torn, his body beaten, his weapon worn and his breaths hungry. His pride, however, shone as bright as the sun, it almost made him glow in a golden pallet.

A light pat on the hand was all she needed to break from the stare.

Morrigan glanced at Serana, who motioned towards their horses, then gave the man a single, blank look before turning her back to him.

A chocked command was heard behind them.

"Wait!"

The man could barely walk, which calmed Morrigan's tensed feet. She had been ready to take off with a leap, but after realizing just how much damage the stranger had taken her pace didn't render.

Saddling a happily browsing tanned horse she clicked twice with her tongue, a common order to wake up her mount from his drowsy state, and was already crossing the field, Serana right behind her on her own black steed.

"Are you sure we should leave him? The man looked ready to die."

"He'll survive." the woman reassured, though her low tone made her sound weary "He'll survive…"

"We have a long way to go after retrieving the bounty from Whiterun." the vampire sighed, doing her best impression on human sulking, seeing no need to dwell further in the foggy future of the single traveller they had saved. He could have been a scout of her father's for all they knew. They couldn't be too cautious when a horde of vampires was after their heads.

Morrigan smirked and raised a knowing brow.

"If you're worried about your meal we can always take the long way and pass by Ivarstead."

"Sounds like a good plan."

 **~O~O~O~O~O~**

It wasn't even an hour later that the two women passed by the city gates of Whiterun rattling with bags filled to the hilt with coin.

Dragons were a messy job to take care of and not many hunters were stupid enough to venture out on a hunting trip for the beasts, so whenever someone willing like Morrigan appeared bounty letters began flying left and right in hopes of reaching her hand. And the woman didn't mind by the least. Hunting kept her skills sharp and the coin she received filled her belly and brought a steady flow of filling to her coin bag. She was more than happy to slay a few winged lizards if the payment was good and in most cases it even surpassed her expectations. And what she liked most about killing dragons was that she didn't have to be the Dragonborn. She didn't rely on shouts, she didn't listen when the dragons spoke to her, she just relied on her skills and that was it. It was good enough; _she_ was good enough, even without the abilities of Dragonborn.

"Hey, listen." Serana spoke in a hushed demeanor. Something she had learned was best when her partner was tired.

Whenever Morrigan suffered from exhaustion her senses went insane. She could hear everything so well, but until her sluggish brain was able to process the sound…it took a while. At the beginning of their journey the vampire had startled her more than a few times until growing accustomed to whispering at night or at any other time she felt her partner dousing off.

"I know you avoid large cities because of me and I thank you for that. But if you want I won't mind staying here for the night. It's just a couple of hours. It won't bother me at all."

As much as she saw lying unappealing to her attempt at cleansing herself of her father's corruption, Serana didn't see any other way of trying to convince the younger woman beside her to stay and rest.

" _A little white lie wouldn't hurt."_ she told herself. And truly it wouldn't because the vampire had had her fair share of supper before they had gone off to search for the dragon; she could swallow back a few hours in a cramped place like the city inn. And even if the smell did become too alluring she could always go out hunting, despite preferring to guard Morrigan while she slept.

It was a habit they had built over the time spent at each other's side. When Serana slept, which was mostly during the waking hours for mortals, Morrigan would guard her coffin…or bedroll until she awoke and the other way around. They watched each other's backs and would throw away the world for the other. Their friendship had evolved so much in such a short time that now Serana felt the woman closer than family. They were close partners now even if they had started off on the wrong foot, which was Serana trying to look away from Morrigan's neck and the younger woman struggling _not_ to relieve the itch in the hand that held her loaded crossbow.

There had been one time when the vampire had gripped at every part of her patience just to restrain herself from replying to the all too cocky statement of her partner. What had it been?

" _Fine."_ _Morrigan_ _groaned before pointing her crossbow at the vampire "But if you fall behind or end up in a fight I am_ _ **not**_ _helping_ _ **nor**_ _waiting. You're on your own, leech, so try not to screw up."_

There had been a pinch of hope in those words; the woman had actually wanted her vampire companion to fall behind so that she could ditch her. Back then Morrigan had thought of Serana as nothing more than a woe and it wasn't until the trip to Blackreach that she actually took the vampire as an equal.

"No." the woman said firmly "I sleep when we return to Fort Dawnguard."

Serana scoffed at the thickheaded words before bending her head to the side.

"Morrigan, you won't make it to the fort. You haven't slept in days, you're exhausted and you'll pass out on the road. And I don't think that's considered healthy for humans."

When the sour woman spotted the Khajiits setting up their caravans outside Whiterun's walls a certain spark flickered in her eyes and she dashed ahead, already knowing the large cats personally after so many meetings and trading. She had even retrieved a sentimental treasure for one of their guards – Kharjo's moon amulet. It had been quite the fuss to get when she had set out to return it, mainly because she had been just a weak rookie at archery and sneak when she had done so. She had barely learned how to shoot and was already crossing the roads with her head high and her back straight. Yes, the amulet had proven quite a challenge, but the reward she had received soothed the wide and bleeding nick she had come back with – a loyal companion who she could ask for help at any time and of course a big sum of coin.

It had been way back then that she had realized just how much she loved the sound of coin in her bag and how far she would go to receive it. She could buy whatever she wanted – food, drink, attire, weapons, armor, a horse, a dog. Everything! And the time she had spent doing jobs for money had paid off rather well because now no one could surpass her archery, her sneak or her pickpocketing. She was the best at what she did, despite it not being something to be particularly proud of.

"Ahkari!" she exhaled with tired eyes smiling.

"Ah, rabi Kha'jay! Ajo! Ajo!" the cat woman exclaimed and stood from her mat to share a longed hug with her old friend.

 _(Ah, my Moon! Wonderful! Wonderful!)_

After placing her clawed hands on Morrigan's shoulders the Khajiit looked her over and smiled fondly.

"How fast you shan. Before a few moons you were just a Ma and now you are S. Shinjoh, shinjoh." she invited the woman inside her caravan and motioned for her to sit on a nicely preserved wolf pelt.

 _(How fast you grow. Before a few moons you were just a child and now you are an adult. Sit, sit.)_

Morrigan glanced at the confused Serana and waved for her to come inside, which she did with a light murmur of displease.

"How much time has it been now, Kah'jay?" Ahkari questioned with an everlasting smile and a voice soft as moon sugar.

 _(How much time has it been now, Moon?)_

A truly fond smile made its way over the woman's face, one which Serana envied the Khajiit for receiving. It was not on many occasions that her partner smiled so serene and when she did it had taken the vampire so much effort to accomplish. And here the cat woman had made her so happy with just a few words.

"Too much, my friend."

Ahkari nodded.

"Too much indeed. Ah – what can Ahkari do for you?"

"Would you happen to have any skooma stored away? I'm going to be on the road all night and I need something to keep me awake."

A mischievous grin tugged the cat woman's whiskers back before she crawled to a locked wooden chest, pulling out a key from her worn apron before tending to the lock.

"Of course! Everything for my dear liter." she said and unlocked the chest, lifted the lid and took out a handful of small purple bottles, skooma bottles.

 _(Of course! Everything for my dear sibling.)_

"How much?" Morrigan asked while pulling at the newly achieved coin bag strapped to her belt.

"None, if you promise to visit more often. The khaj here is cold and you are my epako. Visit, Kha'jay, don't let me become lonely."

 _(None, if you promise to visit more often. The sand here is cold and you are my family. Visit, Moon, don't let me become lonely.)_

Ahkari smirked at the woman's stunned face while Serana's cold stare was not acknowledged.

"Put away those coins."

"I can't just take them from you! What about your profit?" Morrigan closed her mouth as furry hands cupped her own in a bowl before slipping the skooma bottles inside.

"Shhht!" the Khajiit pressed a finger to her delicate muzzle "Now go." she ushered the two women out of her caravan with haste "Go, hurry to the road or even the drink won't be able to help you."

"Thank you, Ahkari." the woman nodded once and raised her hand in farewell "I'll make sure to visit again."

Once at the stables and Serana was sure that the cat's sharp ears couldn't hear her she turned to her partner with a frown.

" _So that was your plan."_ she thought after finally catching up to the improvised plot, finding the woman's resolution to her exhaustion dilemma genius…and a bit extravagant.

"The Khajiit were considered a bad omen the last I heard of them. It's better if we keep our distance." she said skeptically while adjusting the saddle on her horse.

Morrigan was the closest person she had left so trying to protect her was common amongst their kind. Even when she was still a child she knew Khajiit meant trouble and seeing her partner this close to them made her feel uneasy, it sparked a burning sensation in her heart and clenched her chest.

A migraine from holding back her irritation was another displeasing present she left the caravans with. All those unknown words the Khajiit woman had used were clearly from her mother tongue, but that didn't help Serana understand them any better, actually with or without knowing, the vampire was still left in the same spot – confused and annoyed that she couldn't translate even a single word while Morrigan seemed to have known the meaning of every foreign part of the dialogue. It wasn't a surprise considering she and Ahkari had a very deep and tangled history if they had met when Morrigan was still a child. They were friends for a long time, but that alone wasn't able to soften the knot that had appeared in the vampire's throat.

"I know the caravans, especially Ahkari's. The last thing any of them would do is rob me." Morrigan patted her horse softly, a ritual she did whenever they were to depart on a long trip. The horse had stayed loyal through thick and thin, had seen all of Skyrim, by now his legs had become stronger and his stamina increased rapidly. Morrigan almost felt ashamed that she hadn't given it a name by now. "I've saved their skins more than once so doing that would bring a great minus to their business."

"So…what you did back there…It was business?" Serana stopped there, feeling her embarrassment take away her voice. Suddenly her partner's neutral eyes became too heavy and she looked past her and to the grassy plains, leaving the mortal woman perplexed by her strange behavior.

Those emotions, that mistrust and utter distaste for the Khajiit, and more specifically Ahkari, now she remembered them, after so many years being rid of them they had come back to remind her that even vampires were still bound to humanity. She was jealous, fearful that the Khajiit would steal her partner, she had felt ready to tear apart the cat woman for something so simple and…stupid.

"Not entirely, but yes, it was mainly business." Morrigan shrugged at the question.

Serana had inwardly sighed at those words. Simple yet to her they held to much meaning, they were the medicine for her jealousy.

A figure began to rise from the flat horizon and it took to see only his head for the vampire to nudge her head to one side, her brows locked together in concentration and wonder.

"Isn't that the man we saved?"

Morrigan felt her skin crawl when she recognized the familiar pattern of colors draw closer. Serana was right, it was the same man, the color of his life essence was the same as she had seen it before.

He had crawled back to Whiterun and seemed to bear so much pain. It made the woman fell guilty for not…feeling guilty. She cared so little for the man that it embarrassed her.

"Hide." was the only thing she uttered before pinching the end of Serana's sleeve and pulling her behind the stables.

Seeing him limp forward, sensing his struggle and his hurt rendered the woman speechless.

While in such a condition he still continued to walk and he didn't look like he was about to give up. At first Morrigan had thought nothing of the stranger, he had been just a warrior with fancy armor in trouble and she had helped because the dragon attacking him was her target. She left him there bloodied and beaten with a light mind and no regrets, she didn't know him so even his death wouldn't have affected her. She had been there for the gold so why bother helping and thus wasting time on a complete stranger? She had spared his life and thought of that as enough of a gift.

Tucking a few stray hairs back in her black mane while following said man with her eyes she heard Serana hiss beside her.

"Won't he recognize our horses?"

"I don't think so." she answered "Both of them have dark fur and by the time he reached past the bolder to search for us we were already a good distance away."

A chill rocked her body when the stranger passed by the stables and her toes dug in her boots in tension. However, he didn't even seem to notice the horses cooped over the pile of straw, but only continued on his way to the city gates.

Weight lifted off the woman's chest.

"Suppose that's a good sign." she said in ponder and pressed her thumb to her lips, a habit she had subconsciously evolved when thinking.

As much as she had tried to pluck the annoying habit it had only resulted in a temporary success, then one day while she was either stressing over plans for better ambushing her targeted hunt or trying to comprehend a book written in another language she would reluctantly press her finger to her mouth and break the chain of days spent in cleansing. All her efforts would go to waste just because she forgot that she was trying to rid herself of the annoying routine.

When the man hid from their eyes they appeared from behind the stables, both on alert just because the adrenaline kept them from calming.

"Let's move." Morrigan huffed and mounted her horse "We wasted too much time."

Serana only nodded and tightened her grip on the leather reins.

 **~O~O~O~O~O~**

After sparing a long and reassuring skim over the dark and silent road splitting Ivarstead a signal was given to Serana and the vampire hastily stole inside the lock picked house to quench her thirst.

She and Morrigan had passed by Riverwood like a typhoon, they hadn't even looked at the inn and the vampire had solemnly stated that she did not need to feed at the moment.

The guards had heaped them with mistrustful glances, ones which the woman could see even past their Stormcloak masks but pretended not to, seeing no use in feeding their egos with even the smallest sign of anxiety.

Guards were too full of themselves in these times, they thought so highly of themselves, but when it came to their work they just couldn't keep their damn mouths shut. Constant complains had filled her ears many times when she passed by a village or a city and the more she heard the more she got sick of it. The difficulty of her job surpassed theirs countless times, but she had never moaned about it, instead took it head on no matter how salty the task she had been given was. These weakened dogs were too pampered and too praised for doing completely nothing at all. And it was even worse when they actually broke the laws they had vowed to obey, like in Markarth.

That city had been so corrupted before she had come along, and after swearing to purge it of its darkness and finding out that the _guards_ were the ones to blame for the grotesque lurking through the streets, she had felt ready to puke her guts out. Guards, protectors of the laws and loyal workers of the Jarl, were the seed bringing down the city. They needed to be thrown in battle or to be banished to roam the lands with their titles weighing nothing and forced to work hard to gain their food and respect. And maybe then they would see just how good of a life they led as simple guards.

Hiding in the shadows next to the poor cottage, Morrigan stalked the patrolling Stormcloaks with her eyes and when they had stepped out of seeing radius she reached up and knocked three times against the small dirty window, signaling Serana it was safe to come out.

Remembering from past events that the vampire wasn't one to rush out whenever she was signaled Morrigan wasn't surprised by the least when the door to the cottage didn't even budge. Instead of waiting and eventually losing her patience she forced her attention to herself and at that moment realized just how tired she was.

Her eyes were slowly starting to drop as her whole body began to melt under her unbeatable want to rest, but she wasn't worried at all about falling asleep because she had the cure for it hidden inside the bag strapped to her hip. The skooma bottles she had taken from the Khajiit caravans were only half of their original number now, but the road to Fort Dawnguard was not too long either and by the rough calculation Morrigan did they would last her until she reached home. That is if her exhaustion didn't worsen. In that case Serana would probably have to drag her back to the fort.

Taking out one of the small purple bottles from the pouch, the woman took off the lid and proceeded to lift it up as the sweet and spicy liquid flowed down her throat.

Her nose started running when the sharp aroma invaded her nostrils while the burning sting prickling her throat and caused tears to form in her eyes, but never escape them.

Morrigan wasn't one to cry, even if her tears were nothing but aftermath to a strong beverage or smoke from a nearby smelter. The only times she did let herself delve in her depression was in the early hours when she woke up with cold tears over her cheeks and the nightmares that had haunted her sleep still fresh in her head.

She heard the door open with a muffled crack before the slim vampire snuck out with a hand raised up to wipe her bloodied mouth, the lusting hunger that had once dimmed her eyes now absent.

"How are you feeling?"

The small smile Morrigan received swelled her chest, it was as if she had just drank a whole flagon of hot tea, something Serana was able to cause with just the lightest displays of her content. In a way she knew that she was ready to do anything just to make the vampire happy, no matter the price she would have to pay, because the simple joyous smile she got as a prize willed away the shadow of regret that towered over her like a cloud. Serana was the only being that was able to tear her mind off the "what ifs" she thought of every night before falling asleep and her constant mourning for pushing away someone she neither knew nor trusted.

That man, that single man had burnt a scar in her heart, was torturing her both in her sleeping and waking hours and slowly driving her insane – that was his vengeance for being refused of turning her into a "lion". Somehow she knew that that beast would find a way to obsess her even when within the shadows of his castle and he would suck every bit that made her being until but a shell was left to be buried in the soil and forgotten. And what scared her the most was that she didn't mind him slowly killing her, she didn't mind the nightmares he gave her or the flashbacks that zapped past her eyes every so often because that way, regardless of the ache in her heart, she could still see him and spend time with him. The man had cursed her the first time their eyes had met and until she found a way to cleanse herself she would bare the pain he brought her and ponder just why she was so willing to fall in his arms while knowing that the only thing he would do was snap her neck.

"Much better." Serana answered once the last stain of blood was brushed away from the side of her mouth.

"Good." Morrigan nodded and looked to the sky in notice of the high placement of the moon as it basked them in weak light.

The sun was going to shine in a few hours and if she wanted to ease Serana's struggle with submitting to the sunrays and reach a bed before daylight came they would have to hurry.

"Let's just get going."

After giving Morrigan's back a thoughtful examination the vampire couldn't help but bring her eyebrows together in concern.

Something was wrong with the woman and it only took a brief glance at the way her eyes faced the ground for Serana to figure that out.

As subtle as she was sometimes her actions were too blunt if one knew how to read them and Serana had spent more than enough time by her side learning them in detail. However, she just couldn't put her finger on the reason. They had been separated for just a few minutes while she had fed and Morrigan guarded outside the cottage so what could have upset her so much for her body to literally radiate the salty smell of melancholy?

Memories…it was always memories that nibbled away her good mood when she was left alone with her thoughts and frankly her state was getting worse. What could she possible be thinking about that would crush her spirit so much?

"Is something bothering you?" Serana asked, half expecting the woman to just wave her off with a flick of her hand, but she didn't.

"No."

With that the conversation ended.

She wasn't stupid, she knew when Morrigan lied, it showed in her voice, but she didn't want to push the matter any further. Serana wasn't asking out of curiosity, but because she worried and if her partner refused to share then she had a reason, which the vampire would honor even if it left her in the dark and with no way of helping. But this time something inside ate her, it whispered to her muffled words and made her yearn for the truth. She was annoyed by the woman's decline to negotiate and by how helpless that left her in the matter. She wanted to aid Morrigan, to help her in some way and not knowing what was visibly drinking the life out of her was painful.

"You know, sometimes your lack of trust in people – " Serana stopped, a knot of pain threatening to break her even and silent voice " – Sometimes it really hurts."

"Serana, you know I'd put my life in your hands without hesitation…but some things…some things I can't tell you yet. I've never had someone so close before and it takes time to get used to that. I'll tell you everything you want to know, but in due time." a guilty look was offered to the standing vampire while she listened, her shoulders visibly slouching the more she heard "I just hope you have enough patience to wait until then."

Serana frowned at the last part.

"You saved my life. Waiting is the least I can do."

With their horses now not so tired from the trip they were more eager to stride over the stone path that lead to Riften.

If it hadn't been for the constant jostling Morrigan would have fallen asleep even with the amount of skooma purging through her body, but thankfully her horse was always there to help. Apparently the poor creature was as much impatient to reach home as was his rider, which was quite the plus since he had sprinted all the way to the fort, not slowing down even for a breather.

Serana's hunger had been dealt with so now the only thing both women needed was a good rest and when the carved in the mountain entrance to the fort came into view the vampire smiled and felt herself ready to run all the way to the front gates even in such a drained state.

It wasn't like castle Volkihar, but it was home, her home, and she could freely and shamelessly say she had missed it.

 **~O~O~O~O~O~**

"Aren't you coming?"

The question was centered towards the woman who had taken the first step up the long and swirled staircase leading to Isran's quarters.

She turned back and shook her head before running the back of her hand over her eyes to rid them of the dust that was a part of the air in Fort Dawnguard.

This place was truly large and it would take months to clean, but someone could at least try to tidy up the most inhabited parts. The woman had actually develop an allergy from spending so much time in such a dusty place; she wasn't even sure if the webs everywhere were made by spiders or just layers of ash stringed together.

The fort wasn't all that fancy, but it did bring a feeling of protection, even if it didn't look very welcoming when one saw it for the first time.

"No. I have to report to Isran first. Plus, I'm sure that we have a lot of catching up to do." she smirked.

"Do you want me to come with you?"

Morrigan gave a dismissing gesture while having a hand push back the hairs that had escaped her long braid.

"No. I think I'll make it up the stairs without a babysitter."

"Alright." Serana paused, a somewhat playful note wavering in her voice "But if you suddenly collapse I don't want Isran coming to seek me for information."

"I'll make sure to find a chair and sit down then."

Morrigan continued her slow claim of the stairs, making sure that the absence of her attention didn't leave her tripping and tumbling down.

At first the woman had spent the majority of her time in the fort either learning blacksmithing with Gunmar, practicing with her crossbow or keeping watch from one of the towers. She had grown close with the rest of the soldiers and took them as her only family, she loved to share her time with them, but after beginning the Prophesy and visiting castle Volkihar things changed. Now she was rarely seen, only visiting to turn in her successful missions. Truth was that she needed time, time away from the place, it reminded her of him too much, of his ability to manipulate her, of the look he had given her before banishing her. Those black eyes had held such anger that day, he made it seem so she had already been his and had betrayed him and she wasn't even a part of his court. She wasn't even a vampire! Yet when they had faced for the first time he had in some way blocked out everything else around them, even Serana, and had just watched her with the eyes that would seem beady and evil to everyone else but her.

The image of his vampire form had chased her ever since and the fort only fed those nightmarish memories. Funny how she tried to keep as far away from the Dawnguard, but had Serana constantly at her side, but what could she do? After all the horrors they had overcome and all the rocky paths they had taken together she couldn't just banish the vampire, it would be most painful when knowing that she only wanted to make the woman's life more bearable. As much as it tormented her, Morrigan couldn't bring herself to tell Serana. And how could she? This was her father she was speaking off, the madman who was trying to put out the sun, but still her father and to spill out something like him slowly breaking Morrigan's mentality wasn't a story to sweeten their relationship. But even if she didn't tell Serana she was sure the vampire would catch up eventually, she had a witty mind after all, regardless if she wanted to show it or not.

Looking over the stone walls she inhaled deeply, and then exhaled.

" _So many memories…"_ she murmured inwardly before rubbing a hand over her upper arm in self-comfort. This place was making her feel uneasy.

The light from Isran's fireplace danced over the stone floor a few feet away and suddenly Morrigan felt herself become nervous and stopped.

She had never felt so anxious to talk to the man before, not even on her first day as a Dawnguard, but after so long away the woman was bound to suffer from awkwardness no matter which one of her comrades she talked to.

Breathing lightly and trying to sustain her nervousness, she looked past the entrance to Isran's quarters and saw him facing the fire in a wooden chair with his warhammer in his lap.

"Chief?" she called in question, unsure if he was sleeping, but knowing the Redguard, he was probably just looking over the scratches on his weapon. Isran didn't like to sleep nor did for more than three hours, not very healthy in her opinion, but the man knew better than her.

She took the slow raise of his bowed head as her sign to enter. She dragged a chair next to his, sat and crossed her arms while slumping back.

"Been a long time…" he trailed in that deep rusty voice and cast away his weapon, instead looking to the fire "Some thought you were dead."

"Not their first time, but it is fun to watch their reactions when they see I'm still breathing." she smirked at the comedic memory. The soldiers had been so overwhelmed that some of them had blamed her appearance on too much wine and old stew, but she had proven them just how real she was with a few slaps on their heads for slouching off of duty. Those moments reminded her that no matter how many times she disappeared and for how long she would always have people behind her, even if they didn't think as much of her absence as before. She had a family, a not so sane, vampire hunting family, but still a family.

"The missions were a success." she continued, savoring the small chesty smile pulling his thick moustache apart.

"As always. And what of the Jarl? And the Scroll?"

"He wasn't very fond of the news, but not many would like the idea of being a vampire's puppet anyway so his reaction was…to be expected. I just wish he hadn't forced it out on me." she mumbled the last part and stretched her worn legs, letting the fireplace illuminate her glass boots "The important thing is that he's fine and the vampire's dead. The Scroll's safe, Serana has it."

"Is the leech giving you any trouble?"

Morrigan had nearly chocked at the question before answering with an almost insulted tone.

"No, of course not. She's my partner, the best one I've had so far. If anything she just eases my troubles."

"Good." he nodded "She needs to earn her place here if she's to stay in the future and fight on our side."

"She won't betray us, I can guarantee that."

Isran scoffed.

"Guarantee what you want, but until she proves herself to me your words are a waste of effort."

" _Always the cautious one."_ the woman thought, stalling as much as she could before bringing up the second reason for her visit.

She had warned herself not to hurry, to first loosen up the tension and then talk about the matter, but her impatience was getting the best of her. She didn't want to seem desperate, but she didn't want to wait anymore, so before her brain was able to seal her mouth shut the woman was already speaking.

"Are there anymore tasks that need fulfilling?"

"Want to run away again?"

The comment wasn't meant to be offensive, if anything Isran was just teasing, but the fact that she _was_ caused her to stiffen in her chair.

The man had been too at ease to notice, but it didn't help the guilt Morrigan felt for trying to abandon her siblings again.

The only thing important to her was getting away and keeping herself busy and the only way to do that was complete as many jobs as possible…and hope that her Dawnguard troops would be able to forgive her.

"There are many details to be cleared before sending you after the bow. You just brought back the Scrolls. Until we're able to locate Ancestor Glade you're free to do as you wish." a bitter wave came along with his last words "Leave if that's what you want."

Then something inside him snapped, like he had realized that his anger with her was showing, and with a sigh to lift the stress from his temples he leaned back in his chair.

It wasn't his first outburst when it came to the woman beside him, actually he had snapped at her many times, subtly, but his point was made clear. He wanted her to stay no less than the rest, if not even more. She had come to him without a family to support her and without a purpose to lead her and he had taken her under his wing, trained her, fed her, protected her, he had become her father and now she was running away from him like a frightened hare every chance she got. It bothered him, but he would rather have his head on a spike than admit it.

"Bring us some coin next time you come back, we could use it."

"Sure thing." Morrigan stretched and stood up, a yawn threatening to escape her. She made her way to the entrance of his quarters and smirked.

"Get some sleep, old man. You look like you could use it."

"When do you leave?"

Her smile vanished at the question.

He really wasn't going to let her off easy this time, but she should have expected as much. It was Isran who she was speaking with, he didn't care for the comfort of his soldiers, he didn't sugar coat it for them when the matters were serious just to keep them calm and he certainly didn't give a damn about their personal problems. So why should he make an exception now? She wasn't something special and that she had made clear ever since she had first arrived. She did not desire pampering and easier tasks because of her gender while the man had stated that he would not tolerate slipups, regardless of the soldier's sex. That agreement had been sealed by a curt, but strong handshake way back in her early days as a Dawnguard and has lasted ever since.

"Tomorrow morning."

The single bow of his head indicated that he had heard and it was the last Morrigan saw of the man before heading back to the staircase with countless thoughts heavy on her mind.

Treading lightly to not disturb the others, she passed by Serana's newly acquainted coffin, the training grounds and the barrage where the hounds were kept, but when she reached the entrance to the sleeping quarters shared between the vampire hunters she walked by it not even slowing her pace.

Morrigan was extremely tired, ready to pass out on any surface suitable enough to be called a bed, but her mind was so overrun that it was nearing a mental meltdown and she didn't want that happening.

Sitting with her eyes facing the smoldering fireplace she clutched the nearest bottle of mead before filling a chucked away silver goblet with its content.

Drinking before bed wasn't a common habit of hers, but she found herself with a cup in her hand quite often these past few moons and she didn't like that. However, with the mead being the only arrow that could put her down she found herself yielding to it. She disliked alcohol; she could drink it, but would skip it if it weren't for the pain in her chest. She couldn't drink a lot either, it took no more than a bottle of ale to shoot her down and leave her with an unbearable headache when she awoke. She guessed she just wasn't cut out to be a drinker.

The last thing on her mind was hygiene so instead of inspecting the goblet for resent usage she just lifted it to her lips and forced down the first sip of the flaming alcohol. And her self-pity soon caught up.

She was a wench, a good for nothing wench that cared for no one but herself and fell for the first man to ever show her a glimpse of affection. Apparently a mouthful of pretty words and a few fluent hand gestures were what she needed to be won and she was sure that if that beast was able to reach her he would have her in his feet with a mere snap of his fingers. A single look and she would already be falling over in her seat. It was because of him that she threw aside her closest people and scavenged the lands like a crazed beggar and was made a fool of every night within her dreams.

Clenching her goblet so tight that her knuckles lost all color, the woman gritted her teeth and let her tears flow down, half of them explaining her pain while the other were born by the heat of her drink.

She knew all too well that if Harkon faced her, if he was here now and opened his arms she would run to him without remorse and as shameful as it was she didn't think she would be able to do anything else. Morrigan had ran from her Dawnguard family so many seasons, she had turned her back to them countless times so now bearing their anger was a price she was willing to pay. _And it was because of him._ Their tolerance with her was something she could have only dreamed of for they still accepted her after so many runaways and months without even a single letter. _Because of him._ She had screwed up with her family after abandoning them and was screwed up in the head for regretting taking her leave on the Volkihar lord's gift. She was twisted, so very twisted, but no matter how much she had beaten herself she didn't change anything, not having the strength to do it. _And it was his fault._ She couldn't change the overwhelming feeling that threatened to tear her chest from just thinking of the vampire lord nor could she force herself to stay at the fort when the cure to her madness were the roads of Skyrim. _His fault. All his fault! This was all his fault!_

When attempting to refill her goblet Morrigan found the bottle empty.

She pondered while twirling it in her hands.

Hadn't it been full when she had claimed it? Her mind was too hazy, she couldn't remember.

She took the empty bottle as a sign to retire and stood from the table to prepare for bed.

She kept her fingers pressed loosely to the wall while walking back to the sleeping quarters, just enjoying the cool, alien feeling under her skin and using her hand as leverage whenever she submissively started leaning to the side.

The only light in the cramped room came from the crackling fireplace so to spare herself a trip and eventual disturbance of her fellow Dawnguard she snapped her finger to conjure a candlelight.

It illuminated her path to the farthest of the bunks and once the pleasing feeling of her backside contacting with the furry surface came she shuffled off her boots and stretched her toes, relishing in the slightly painful sensation.

Finally leaning back in the plush fur she pulled the cover that was neatly folded on the foot of the bunk up to her chin and fell asleep as soon as her heavy head collided with the pillow.

 **~O~O~O~O~O~**

The sharp headache she woke up with the next morning could not have been avoided.

Excluding Isran she had been the last one to slip into bed and yet was one of the first to awaken considering the large number of still occupied bunks.

A bare hand clung to the side of her aching head while she left for the main hall with barely opened eyes.

The smell of venison stew and garlic bread was heavily floating through the still rather lazy air, just the kind she liked. Gunmar and Sorine were the only people present, each occupied with their breakfast until Morrigan's footsteps lured their eyes to her, freezing her in spot.

"Morning." she grumbled past her headache before sloppily combing back her hair and noticing that it was loose. Her braid had been ruined throughout her slumber, something that rarely happened, but she didn't mind. It felt nice to wear her hair down from time to time even if she did prefer it out of her face.

"I could've sworn I saw a glimpse of someone in your bunk this morning." Gunmar grinned widely "Nice to have you back, kid."

That much she had expected from the Nord. His words were always so simple and well placed and made it clear that he had missed the woman, but didn't feel the need to overreact. He had trust in her abilities and that had been made a point before she had started wandering off. But when she looked to Sorine and saw the angry tears that were building in her eyes she prepared herself for an outburst.

"You..." the Breton pointed a shaky finger at her and hissed through clenched teeth "You! You idiot! I thought you were dead! I thought you'd been killed!"

So this was the one Isran had been talking about last night.

Sorine and Morrigan couldn't name themselves as the closest of friends, but they were still friends so her rage fit over the woman's long absence was understandable. Actually it made her inwardly smile for being remembered and missed while away. Drama scenes like these were a reminded that she had support behind her if she were to ever seek help.

"And here you stand alive and without any injuries. You're awful."

Morrigan couldn't sustain the pitiful smile that crossed her face.

"That I am."

Sorine stood from her spot on the bench, her stew forgotten, and wrapped her arms around the taller woman, squeezing hard in fright that all this would turn out to be a dream. A cruel dream born by her constant worry.

"Do you know how many crossbows I ruined because I worried for you?" she continued after pulling away "Next time you run off I'm sending the troll after you."

"So that means a lot of weapons then?" Morrigan said with an eyebrow raised.

"A lot." the woman confirmed "Are you hungry?"

The freshly prepared breakfast smelled alluring, but somehow her headache had found a way to numb her stomach so the only thing she found appetizing was a cold glass of cabbage juice to help with her pain.

Crouching next to the table where the kegs were positioned she looked over the jars of pickled vegetables before spotting wrinkled cabbage leaves clinging to the walls of their glass container and gripped it before setting it on the dining table.

"Here." Gunmar muffled out past a full mouth before a blue cup was tossed her way.

Taking a stray butter knife she eased it under the lid of the jar, successfully getting it open after a short struggle before filling her cup with the awful smelling juice.

"You sure you wanna drink that?" Sorine asked and pointed her occupied with bread hand to the jar "It's not meant to be consumed on an empty stomach."

"And it's the only way to cure my headache."

Morrigan sat with her back to the fireplace, enjoying the heat purging her skin, and after eyeing her drink with visual distaste she willed herself to lift it to her dry lips.

In a way the sour flavor tasted good against the bitterness that resided in her mouth, but the smell it would leave would take an hour of chewing ginger slices to cast away. She supposed it was a decent cost for relieving her from the feeling of nails being plunged in her head.

A loud creak echoed within the fort when the front gates were forced apart, Serana being the one to open them. But it wasn't until she peeked inside the sleeping quarters in search of her partner did Morrigan spot her.

"Already up." she called shortly before gripping her head and regretting opening her mouth.

The vampire perked up at the known voice and turned to see her pitiful friend slumped over one of the connected dining tables with a foul smelling drink cradled in her arms and a hand going up every so often to pinch her nose bridge and sooth the pain she was visibly in.

After giving a soft nod at the eating soldiers in greeting, Serana sat herself down and unloaded a single potion of blood from the deep brown leather bag hanging from her shoulder.

"Wasn't expecting you to be up this early." she said and unsealed the glass bottle, then paused "You smell."

"Thanks." Morrigan all but groaned, sarcasm dripping from her voice in an almost violent manner "You just made my day."

She drowned her mouth with the sour juice again before clenching her jaws together in suppression of a primal snarl. Gods why did she have to throw her head back so fast….?

"No, I mean…." Serana leaned in closer, slightly sunk in her seat and craned her head away from the other Dawnguard "I mean you smell of salt. Of tears. Have you….have you been crying?"

The stench Morrigan carried in the early morning hours was always unpleasant to take in, especially when she snuck a bottle of mead in her bed when she retired for the night, but after so long the vampire had grown accustomed. It was bearable and now she could retain almost every attempt of her nose to wrinkle in disgust. It had been times like those that had made Serana severely regret her vampire perks and wish to be mortal if the smell would go away. But this morning she had smelled something odd and it hadn't been until coming close to Morrigan that she was able to decipher the scent.

Tears, dried up all over her face and giving out such a salty aroma that she could easily compare it to the sea.

Morrigan felt a knot coil in her throat and barely suppressed the instinctive urge to reach up and feel her face for tears.

Surely she wasn't crying, not in public, she had never given herself the freedom to do that. Then it came to her. Last night when she had broken down on one of the benches in the dining hall.

Keeping her face unaffected and ignoring the nausea that had come to rest in her irritated stomach she met Serana's concern with conventionalism.

"Shared a cup last night with Isran. Turns out his drinks are too strong for me. Took a sip and I already found myself shedding tears. Was too tired to clean them so I went straight to bed."

The blood potion she noticed Serana twirling in her hand made her inwardly sigh in relief. It was her ticket to escape their awkward talk so she pointed to it with a bit too much interest.

"Where did you get that?"

"Even after I fled my father there still are a couple of resourceful allies I can count on. I'm considered special now that I'm back…That is until everyone finds out I'm negotiating with you." a silent sigh slipped past her parted mouth while she stared at the potion in her hold, demanding it for answers she didn't know she was yet seeking "Sometimes I wonder why we think ourselves so mighty when in reality we're just as bad as any other race. I disobeyed my father and now those I called friends are ready to slit my throat and bring me back to him. It's sick."

"And also human. You leave and they hunt you down because they want to win his favor. It's as it always has been. We're different, you and me, but if you look us in a mirror we're the same. Human…ish. Mmmmm, for the most part. That's proof enough that there's still humanity among your kind even if you are immortal. Your race doesn't determine who you are, Serana, your actions do and so far you've done nothing to determine that you belong with them. You negotiate with us because you _are_ one of us."

"Always so good with words." the vampire whispered, as if cursing the Gods for giving the woman such a rich dictionary, and a small smile crept on her face "Thanks."

Tracing a finger over the edge of her cup, Morrigan took notice of the soldiers that were gathering over the dining tables.

She was spared a few smiling glances and a few greetings and that was it. As if she had been present all along, but what did she expect from vampire hunters? They were aware that she would leave again and that her next return might not occur at all, but that didn't mean life wouldn't go on. Their jobs were chosen by will, they knew what they were getting involved into. They couldn't mourn eternally if one of them died, their duty didn't allow it, yes, she would be missed, but they would move on as it is expected. After all, even if they did take each other as family they weren't here to make friends, but to protect lives and that called for total attention. They couldn't just run around with their heads elsewhere.

Having enough of her sour drink Morrigan pushed it aside, laid her elbows on the table and curled her arms around the empty silver plate in front of her. She gazed into it closely, taking in her haggard features, her bitter frown, messy hair and blank eyes and relieved herself of a heavy exhale.

She looked like she had just been brought back from the dead.

"I have a few ties to revamp today." she mentioned carelessly and straightened her back, feeling her skin burning from being exposed to the fireplace for too long. But as much as it pained her she liked the heat, it made her feel cozy in a way, made her relax and finally take a breather after so long out in the open.

"With who?"

"Considering we spent the last two seasons raiding Falmer camps and hunting scrolls I want to pay a visit to the few true friends I have left." Morrigan said and shrugged "It won't take long. I'll see maybe two or three people. Mainly Delvyn. Haven't heard from the old codger in a long time. "

Serana forced down her blood potion in one breath before wiping a hand over her mouth and gasping softly.

"So when do we leave?"

"Actually I was thinking of going by myself this time."

Seeing the caution in the vampire's eyes was like having a hand grip Morrigan by the throat.

Suddenly the breaths she was inhaling felt too unsatisfying for her.

The two had went by as a package ever since Serana had first set foot in the fort, they went everywhere together so splitting up now for no apparent reason was more than enough to spark the vampire's caution and…worry. It wasn't like they hadn't parted before, but as of late it was Morrigan who had always kept the tie between them and to suddenly want to leave without Serana felt the least bit strange.

After leaving her father's castle the vampire woman had felt a change in her partner, had felt something close to…regret, depression and need. Morrigan needed her there just to keep her company, to keep her sane and scare away the shadows that followed both of them. When the woman thought she was alone Serana could sense the immediate change in her mood, the abrupt swing from content to loneliness and hurt and fright from something the vampire couldn't see nor understand. All she knew was that leaving her partner was a bad idea, something bad would happen, the woman would do something she'd regret later. And that something was connected to Harkon, the man she refused to call a father.

"It won't be a long trip and you've more than earned your rest. I want to go alone to clear my relations quick and be back as soon as possible."

"I see." the vampire just nodded before offering a look of understanding. It was a bad idea not to trying to change her mind, but Serana wanted to respect her decision and let her go if that's what she thought would be best. And it wouldn't hurt if they parted for a while. If anything it would only strengthen the bond between them "You need some time to yourself, you don't have to explain yourself to me. I'll be here if you need me."

A smile lit Morrigan's face, a truly thankful smile, a gesture Serana preferred over a simple thanking because it showed there was still hope that someday the woman would stop delving in the shadows of her past, stop regretting the mistakes she had made and just move on.

" _There's still hope…_ " she told herself with content being brought to her lowered eyes _"…even for a thickheaded idiot like her."_

In a blink Morrigan was up on her feet and turning to the venison stew that was simmering in an iron pot just over the flames of the fireplace.

She pushed back her never ending thoughts, leaving them for another time, cleared her head of the memories that pledged it and tugged on the cunning atmosphere that was lately applied as a cloak to hide her misery, but this time she used just to feel like her old self again.

Last night, before going to bed she had vowed to herself that today would be her day, that she would ignore the vampire possessing her dreams, stop mourning over the past and stop pitying herself. She would be happy today because she damn well deserved it and somehow Serana's understand had been the motivation she had needed to start.

She was home with her family, everyone was well, Isran would eventually forgive her and stop sulking in his quarters and Serana was finally free to rest. She would ignore the crisis in the cities she would visit, the dragons and the beasts she would meet through her travel. She would leave for a bit, see her friends, remember the old good times when her mischievousness took up a large part of her character, remember the silly kisses and phony romances she had shared with a few good people, have a good laugh and come back refreshed. And everything would be as she had left it. Yes, this day was definitely hers and she would be _damned_ not to enjoy it.


End file.
